FOOTNOTES:

Hymen, that now is god of nuptial rites,And crowns with honour Love and his delights,Of Athens was a youth, so sweet of face,That many thought him of the female race;Such quickening brightness did his clear eyes dart,Warm went their beams to his beholder's heart,In such pure leagues his beauties were combin'd,That there your nuptial contracts first were signed;For as proportion, white and crimson, meetIn beauty's mixture, all right clear and sweet,100The eye responsible, the golden hair,And none is held, without the other, fair;All spring together, all together fade;Such intermix'd affections should invadeTwo perfect lovers; which being yet unseen,Their virtues and their comforts copied beenIn beauty's concord, subject to the eye;And that, in Hymen, pleased so matchlessly,That lovers were esteemed in their full grace,Like form and colour mixed in Hymen's face;110And such sweet concord was thought worthy thenOf torches, music, feasts, and greatest men:So Hymen look'd that even the chastest mindHe mov'd to join in joys of sacred kind;For only now his chin's first down consortedHis head's rich fleece in golden curls contorted;And as he was so loved, he loved so too:So should best beauties bound by nuptials, do.Bright Eucharis, who was by all men saidThe noblest, fairest, and the richest maid120Of all th' Athenian damsels, Hymen lov'dWith such transmission, that his heart remov'dFrom his white breast to hers: but her estate,In passing his, was so interminateFor wealth and honour, that his love durst feedOn naught but sight and hearing, nor could breedHope of requital, the grand prize of love;Nor could he hear or see, but he must proveHow his rare beauty's music would agreeWith maids in consort; therefore robbèd he130His chin of those same few first fruits it bore,And, clad in such attire as virgins wore,He kept them company, and might right well,For he did all but Eucharis excelIn all the fair of beauty! yet he wantedVirtue to make his own desires implantedIn his dear Eucharis; for women neverLove beauty in their sex, but envy ever.His judgment yet, that durst not suit address,Nor, past due means, presume of due success,140Reason gat Fortune in the end to speedTo his best prayers[95]: but strange it seemed, indeed,That Fortune should a chaste affection bless:Preferment seldom graceth bashfulness.Nor grac'd it Hymen yet; but many a dart,And many an amorous thought, enthralled[96]his heart,Ere he obtained her; and he sick became,Forced to abstain her sight; and then the flameRaged in his bosom. O, what grief did fill him!Sight made him sick, and want of sight did kill him.150The virgins wonder'd where Diætia stay'd,For so did Hymen term himself, a maid.At length with sickly looks he greeted them:Tis strange to see 'gainst what an extreme streamA lover strives; poor Hymen look'd so ill,That as in merit he increasèd stillBy suffering much, so he in grace decreas'd:Women are most won, when men merit least:If Merit look not well, Love bids stand by;Love's special lesson is to please the eye.160And Hymen soon recovering all he lost,Deceiving still these maids, but himself most,His love and he with many virgin dames,Noble by birth, noble by beauty's flames,Leaving the town with songs and hallow'd lightsTo do great Ceres Eleusina ritesOf zealous sacrifice, were made a preyTo barbarous rovers, that in ambush lay,And with rude hands enforc'd their shining spoil,Far from the darkened city, tired with toil:170And when the yellow issue of the skyCame trooping forth, jealous of crueltyTo their bright fellows of this under-heaven,Into a double night they saw them driven,—A horrid cave, the thieves' black mansion;Where, weary of the journey they had gone,Their last night's watch, and drunk with their sweet gains,Dull Morpheus enter'd, laden with silken chains,Stronger than iron, and bound the swelling veinsAnd tirèd senses of these lawless swains.180But when the virgin lights thus dimly burn'd,O, what a hell was heaven in! how they mourn'dAnd wrung their hands, and wound their gentle formsInto the shapes of sorrow! golden stormsFell from their eyes; as when the sun appears,And yet it rains, so show'd their eyes their tears:And, as when funeral dames watch a dead corse,Weeping about it, telling with remorseWhat pains he felt, how long in pain he lay,How little food he ate, what he would say;190And then mix mournful tales of other's deaths,Smothering themselves in clouds of their own breaths;At length, one cheering other, call for wine;The golden bowl drinks tears out of their eyne,As they drink wine from it; and round it goes,Each helping other to relieve their woes;So cast these virgins' beauties mutual rays,One lights another, face the face displays;Lips by reflection kissed, and hands hands shook,Even by the whiteness each of other took.200But Hymen now used friendly Morpheus' aid,Slew every thief, and rescued every maid:And now did his enamour'd passion takeHeart from his hearty deed, whose worth did makeHis hope of bounteous Eucharis more strong;And now came Love with Proteus, who had longJuggled the little god with prayers and gifts,Ran through all shapes and varied all his shifts,To win Love's stay with him, and make him love him.And when he saw no strength of sleight could move him,To make him love or stay, he nimbly turned211Into Love's self, he so extremely burned.And thus came Love, with Proteus and his power,T' encounter Eucharis: first, like the flowerThat Juno's milk did spring,[97]the silver lily,He fell on Hymen's hand, who straight did spyThe bounteous godhead, and with wondrous joyOffer'd it Eucharis. She, wonderous coy,Drew back her hand: the subtle flower did woo it,And, drawing it near, mixed so you could not know it:220As two clear tapers mix in one their light,So did the lily and the hand their white.She viewed it; and her view the form bestowsAmongst her spirits; for, as colour flowsFrom superficies of each thing we see,Even so with colours forms emitted be;And where Love's form is, Love is; Love is form:He entered at the eye; his sacred stormRose from the hand, Love's sweetest instrument:It stirred her blood's sea so, that high it went,230And beat in bashful waves 'gainst the white shoreOf her divided cheeks; it raged the more,Because the tide went 'gainst the haughty windOf her estate and birth: and, as we find,In fainting ebbs, the flowery Zephyr hurlsThe green-haired Hellespont, broke in silver curls,'Gainst Hero's tower; but in his blast's retreat,The waves obeying him, they after beat,Leaving the chalky shore a great way pale,Then moist it freshly with another gale;240So ebbed and flowed the blood[98]in Eucharis' face,Coyness and Love strived which had greatest grace;Virginity did fight on Coyness' side,Fear of her parent's frowns and female prideLoathing the lower place, more than it lovesThe high contents desert and virtue moves.With Love fought Hymen's beauty and his valure,[99]Which scarce could so much favour yet allureTo come to strike, but fameless idle stood:Action is fiery valour's sovereign good.250But Love, once entered, wished no greater aidThan he could find within; thought thought betray'd;The bribed, but incorrupted, garrisonSung "Io Hymen;" there those songs begun,And Love was grown so rich with such a gain,And wanton with the ease of his free reign,That he would turn into her roughest frownsTo turn them out; and thus he Hymen crownsKing of his thoughts, man's greatest empery:This was his first brave step to deity.260Home to the mourning city they repair,With news as wholesome as the morning air,To the sad parents of each savèd maid:But Hymen and his Eucharis had laidThis plat[100]to make the flame of their delightRound as the moon at full, and full as bright.Because the parents of chaste EucharisExceeding Hymen's so, might cross their bliss;And as the world rewards deserts, that lawCannot assist with force; so when they saw270Their daughter safe, take vantage of their own,Praise Hymen's valour much, nothing bestown;Hymen must leave the virgins in a groveFar off from Athens, and go first to prove,If to restore them all with fame and life,He should enjoy his dearest as his wife.This told to all the maids, the most agree:The riper sort, knowing what 'tis to beThe first mouth of a news so far derived,And that to hear and bear news brave folks lived.280As being a carriage special hard to bearOccurrents, these occurrents being so dear,They did with grace protest, they were contentT' accost their friends with all their compliment,For Hymen's good; but to incur their harm,There he must pardon them. This wit went warmTo Adolesche's[101]brain, a nymph born high,Made all of voice and fire, that upwards fly:Her heart and all her forces' nether trainClimb'd to her tongue, and thither fell her brain,290Since it could go no higher; and it must go;All powers she had, even her tongue, did so:In spirit and quickness she much joy did take,And loved her tongue, only for quickness' sake;And she would haste and tell. The rest all stay:Hymen goes one, the nymph another way;And what became of her I'll tell at last:Yet take her visage now;—moist-lipped, long-faced,Thin like an iron wedge, so sharp and tart,As 'twere of purpose made to cleave Love's heart:300Well were this lovely beauty rid of her.And Hymen did at Athens now preferHis welcome suit, which he with joy aspired:A hundred princely youths with him retiredTo fetch the nymphs; chariots and music went;And home they came: heaven with applauses rent.The nuptials straight proceed, whiles all the town,Fresh in their joys, might do them most renown.First, gold-locked Hymen did to church repair,Like a quick offering burned in flames of hair;310And after, with a virgin firmamentThe godhead-proving bride attended wentBefore them all: she looked in her command,As if form-giving Cypria's silver handGripped all their beauties, and crushed out one flame;She blushed to see how beauty overcameThe thoughts of all men. Next, before her wentFive lovely children, decked with ornamentOf her sweet colours, bearing torches by;For light was held a happy augury320Of generation, whose efficient rightIs nothing else but to produce to light.The odd disparent number they did choose,To show the union married loves should use,Since in two equal parts it will not sever,But the midst holds one to rejoin it ever,As common to both parts: men therefore deemThat equal number gods do not esteem,Being authors of sweet peace and unity,But pleasing to th' infernal empery,330Under whose ensigns Wars and Discords fight,Since an even number you may disuniteIn two parts equal, naught in middle leftTo reunite each part from other reft;And five they hold in most especial prize,[102]Since 'tis the first odd number that doth riseFrom the two foremost numbers' unity,That odd and even are; which are two and three;For one no number is; but thence doth flowThe powerful race of number. Next, did go340A noble matron, that did spinning bearA huswife's rock and spindle, and did wearA wether's skin, with all the snowy fleece,To intimate that even the daintiest pieceAnd noblest-born dame should industrious be:That which does good disgraceth no degree.And now to Juno's temple they are come,Where her grave priest stood in the marriage-room:On his right arm did hang a scarlet veil,And from his shoulders to the ground did trail,350On either side, ribands of white and blue:With the red veil he hid the bashful hueOf the chaste bride, to show the modest shame,In coupling with a man, should grace a dame.Then took he the disparent silks, and tiedThe lovers by the waists, and side to side,In token that thereafter they must bindIn one self-sacred knot each other's mind.Before them on an altar he presentedBoth fire and water, which was first invented,360Since to ingenerate every human creatureAnd every other birth produc'd by Nature,Moisture and heat must mix; so man and wifeFor human race must join in nuptial life.Then one of Juno's birds, the painted jay,He sacrific'd and took the gall away;All which he did behind the altar throw,In sign no bitterness of hate should grow,'Twixt married loves, nor any least disdain.Nothing they spake, for 'twas esteem'd too plain370For the most silken mildness of a maid,To let a public audience hear it said,She boldly took the man; and so respectedWas bashfulness in Athens, it erectedTo chaste Agneia,[103]which is Shamefacedness,A sacred temple, holding her a goddess.And now to feasts, masks, and triumphant shows,The shining troops returned, even till earth-throesBrought forth with joy the thickest part of night,When the sweet nuptial song, that used to cite380All to their rest, was by Phemonöe[104]sung,First Delphian prophetess, whose graces sprungOut of the Muses' well: she sung beforeThe bride into her chamber; at which doorA matron and a torch-bearer did stand:A painted box of confits[105]in her handThe matron held, and so did other some[106]That compassed round the honour'd nuptial room.The custom was, that every maid did wear,During her maidenhead, a silken sphere390About her waist, above her inmost weed,Knit with Minerva's knot, and that was freedBy the fair bridegroom on the marriage-night,With many ceremonies of delight:And yet eternized Hymen's tender bride,To suffer it dissolved so, sweetly cried.The maids that heard, so loved and did adore her,They wished with all their hearts to suffer for her.So had the matrons, that with confits stoodAbout the chamber, such affectionate blood,400And so true feeling of her harmless pains,That every one a shower of confits rains;For which the bride-youths scrambling on the ground,In noise of that sweet hail her[107]cries were drown'd.And thus blest Hymen joyed his gracious bride,And for his joy was after deified.The saffron mirror by which Phœbus' love,Green Tellus, decks her, now he held aboveThe cloudy mountains: and the noble maid,Sharp-visaged Adolesche, that was stray'd410Out of her way, in hasting with her news,Not till this[108]hour th' Athenian turrets views;And now brought home by guides, she heard by all,That her long kept occurrents would be stale,And how fair Hymen's honours did excelFor those rare news which she came short to tell.To hear her dear tongue robbed of such a joy,Made the well-spoken nymph take such a toy,[109]That down she sunk: when lightning from aboveShrunk her lean body, and, for mere free love,420Turn'd her into the pied-plum'd Psittacus,That now the Parrot is surnam'd by us,Who still with counterfeit confusion pratesNaught but news common to the common'st mates.—This told, strange Teras touch'd her lute, and sungThis ditty, that the torchy evening sprung.

Hymen, that now is god of nuptial rites,

And crowns with honour Love and his delights,

Of Athens was a youth, so sweet of face,

That many thought him of the female race;

Such quickening brightness did his clear eyes dart,

Warm went their beams to his beholder's heart,

In such pure leagues his beauties were combin'd,

That there your nuptial contracts first were signed;

For as proportion, white and crimson, meet

In beauty's mixture, all right clear and sweet,100

The eye responsible, the golden hair,

And none is held, without the other, fair;

All spring together, all together fade;

Such intermix'd affections should invade

Two perfect lovers; which being yet unseen,

Their virtues and their comforts copied been

In beauty's concord, subject to the eye;

And that, in Hymen, pleased so matchlessly,

That lovers were esteemed in their full grace,

Like form and colour mixed in Hymen's face;110

And such sweet concord was thought worthy then

Of torches, music, feasts, and greatest men:

So Hymen look'd that even the chastest mind

He mov'd to join in joys of sacred kind;

For only now his chin's first down consorted

His head's rich fleece in golden curls contorted;

And as he was so loved, he loved so too:

So should best beauties bound by nuptials, do.

Bright Eucharis, who was by all men said

The noblest, fairest, and the richest maid120

Of all th' Athenian damsels, Hymen lov'd

With such transmission, that his heart remov'd

From his white breast to hers: but her estate,

In passing his, was so interminate

For wealth and honour, that his love durst feed

On naught but sight and hearing, nor could breed

Hope of requital, the grand prize of love;

Nor could he hear or see, but he must prove

How his rare beauty's music would agree

With maids in consort; therefore robbèd he130

His chin of those same few first fruits it bore,

And, clad in such attire as virgins wore,

He kept them company, and might right well,

For he did all but Eucharis excel

In all the fair of beauty! yet he wanted

Virtue to make his own desires implanted

In his dear Eucharis; for women never

Love beauty in their sex, but envy ever.

His judgment yet, that durst not suit address,

Nor, past due means, presume of due success,140

Reason gat Fortune in the end to speed

To his best prayers[95]: but strange it seemed, indeed,

That Fortune should a chaste affection bless:

Preferment seldom graceth bashfulness.

Nor grac'd it Hymen yet; but many a dart,

And many an amorous thought, enthralled[96]his heart,

Ere he obtained her; and he sick became,

Forced to abstain her sight; and then the flame

Raged in his bosom. O, what grief did fill him!

Sight made him sick, and want of sight did kill him.150

The virgins wonder'd where Diætia stay'd,

For so did Hymen term himself, a maid.

At length with sickly looks he greeted them:

Tis strange to see 'gainst what an extreme stream

A lover strives; poor Hymen look'd so ill,

That as in merit he increasèd still

By suffering much, so he in grace decreas'd:

Women are most won, when men merit least:

If Merit look not well, Love bids stand by;

Love's special lesson is to please the eye.160

And Hymen soon recovering all he lost,

Deceiving still these maids, but himself most,

His love and he with many virgin dames,

Noble by birth, noble by beauty's flames,

Leaving the town with songs and hallow'd lights

To do great Ceres Eleusina rites

Of zealous sacrifice, were made a prey

To barbarous rovers, that in ambush lay,

And with rude hands enforc'd their shining spoil,

Far from the darkened city, tired with toil:170

And when the yellow issue of the sky

Came trooping forth, jealous of cruelty

To their bright fellows of this under-heaven,

Into a double night they saw them driven,—

A horrid cave, the thieves' black mansion;

Where, weary of the journey they had gone,

Their last night's watch, and drunk with their sweet gains,

Dull Morpheus enter'd, laden with silken chains,

Stronger than iron, and bound the swelling veins

And tirèd senses of these lawless swains.180

But when the virgin lights thus dimly burn'd,

O, what a hell was heaven in! how they mourn'd

And wrung their hands, and wound their gentle forms

Into the shapes of sorrow! golden storms

Fell from their eyes; as when the sun appears,

And yet it rains, so show'd their eyes their tears:

And, as when funeral dames watch a dead corse,

Weeping about it, telling with remorse

What pains he felt, how long in pain he lay,

How little food he ate, what he would say;190

And then mix mournful tales of other's deaths,

Smothering themselves in clouds of their own breaths;

At length, one cheering other, call for wine;

The golden bowl drinks tears out of their eyne,

As they drink wine from it; and round it goes,

Each helping other to relieve their woes;

So cast these virgins' beauties mutual rays,

One lights another, face the face displays;

Lips by reflection kissed, and hands hands shook,

Even by the whiteness each of other took.200

But Hymen now used friendly Morpheus' aid,

Slew every thief, and rescued every maid:

And now did his enamour'd passion take

Heart from his hearty deed, whose worth did make

His hope of bounteous Eucharis more strong;

And now came Love with Proteus, who had long

Juggled the little god with prayers and gifts,

Ran through all shapes and varied all his shifts,

To win Love's stay with him, and make him love him.

And when he saw no strength of sleight could move him,

To make him love or stay, he nimbly turned211

Into Love's self, he so extremely burned.

And thus came Love, with Proteus and his power,

T' encounter Eucharis: first, like the flower

That Juno's milk did spring,[97]the silver lily,

He fell on Hymen's hand, who straight did spy

The bounteous godhead, and with wondrous joy

Offer'd it Eucharis. She, wonderous coy,

Drew back her hand: the subtle flower did woo it,

And, drawing it near, mixed so you could not know it:220

As two clear tapers mix in one their light,

So did the lily and the hand their white.

She viewed it; and her view the form bestows

Amongst her spirits; for, as colour flows

From superficies of each thing we see,

Even so with colours forms emitted be;

And where Love's form is, Love is; Love is form:

He entered at the eye; his sacred storm

Rose from the hand, Love's sweetest instrument:

It stirred her blood's sea so, that high it went,230

And beat in bashful waves 'gainst the white shore

Of her divided cheeks; it raged the more,

Because the tide went 'gainst the haughty wind

Of her estate and birth: and, as we find,

In fainting ebbs, the flowery Zephyr hurls

The green-haired Hellespont, broke in silver curls,

'Gainst Hero's tower; but in his blast's retreat,

The waves obeying him, they after beat,

Leaving the chalky shore a great way pale,

Then moist it freshly with another gale;240

So ebbed and flowed the blood[98]in Eucharis' face,

Coyness and Love strived which had greatest grace;

Virginity did fight on Coyness' side,

Fear of her parent's frowns and female pride

Loathing the lower place, more than it loves

The high contents desert and virtue moves.

With Love fought Hymen's beauty and his valure,[99]

Which scarce could so much favour yet allure

To come to strike, but fameless idle stood:

Action is fiery valour's sovereign good.250

But Love, once entered, wished no greater aid

Than he could find within; thought thought betray'd;

The bribed, but incorrupted, garrison

Sung "Io Hymen;" there those songs begun,

And Love was grown so rich with such a gain,

And wanton with the ease of his free reign,

That he would turn into her roughest frowns

To turn them out; and thus he Hymen crowns

King of his thoughts, man's greatest empery:

This was his first brave step to deity.260

Home to the mourning city they repair,

With news as wholesome as the morning air,

To the sad parents of each savèd maid:

But Hymen and his Eucharis had laid

This plat[100]to make the flame of their delight

Round as the moon at full, and full as bright.

Because the parents of chaste Eucharis

Exceeding Hymen's so, might cross their bliss;

And as the world rewards deserts, that law

Cannot assist with force; so when they saw270

Their daughter safe, take vantage of their own,

Praise Hymen's valour much, nothing bestown;

Hymen must leave the virgins in a grove

Far off from Athens, and go first to prove,

If to restore them all with fame and life,

He should enjoy his dearest as his wife.

This told to all the maids, the most agree:

The riper sort, knowing what 'tis to be

The first mouth of a news so far derived,

And that to hear and bear news brave folks lived.280

As being a carriage special hard to bear

Occurrents, these occurrents being so dear,

They did with grace protest, they were content

T' accost their friends with all their compliment,

For Hymen's good; but to incur their harm,

There he must pardon them. This wit went warm

To Adolesche's[101]brain, a nymph born high,

Made all of voice and fire, that upwards fly:

Her heart and all her forces' nether train

Climb'd to her tongue, and thither fell her brain,290

Since it could go no higher; and it must go;

All powers she had, even her tongue, did so:

In spirit and quickness she much joy did take,

And loved her tongue, only for quickness' sake;

And she would haste and tell. The rest all stay:

Hymen goes one, the nymph another way;

And what became of her I'll tell at last:

Yet take her visage now;—moist-lipped, long-faced,

Thin like an iron wedge, so sharp and tart,

As 'twere of purpose made to cleave Love's heart:300

Well were this lovely beauty rid of her.

And Hymen did at Athens now prefer

His welcome suit, which he with joy aspired:

A hundred princely youths with him retired

To fetch the nymphs; chariots and music went;

And home they came: heaven with applauses rent.

The nuptials straight proceed, whiles all the town,

Fresh in their joys, might do them most renown.

First, gold-locked Hymen did to church repair,

Like a quick offering burned in flames of hair;310

And after, with a virgin firmament

The godhead-proving bride attended went

Before them all: she looked in her command,

As if form-giving Cypria's silver hand

Gripped all their beauties, and crushed out one flame;

She blushed to see how beauty overcame

The thoughts of all men. Next, before her went

Five lovely children, decked with ornament

Of her sweet colours, bearing torches by;

For light was held a happy augury320

Of generation, whose efficient right

Is nothing else but to produce to light.

The odd disparent number they did choose,

To show the union married loves should use,

Since in two equal parts it will not sever,

But the midst holds one to rejoin it ever,

As common to both parts: men therefore deem

That equal number gods do not esteem,

Being authors of sweet peace and unity,

But pleasing to th' infernal empery,330

Under whose ensigns Wars and Discords fight,

Since an even number you may disunite

In two parts equal, naught in middle left

To reunite each part from other reft;

And five they hold in most especial prize,[102]

Since 'tis the first odd number that doth rise

From the two foremost numbers' unity,

That odd and even are; which are two and three;

For one no number is; but thence doth flow

The powerful race of number. Next, did go340

A noble matron, that did spinning bear

A huswife's rock and spindle, and did wear

A wether's skin, with all the snowy fleece,

To intimate that even the daintiest piece

And noblest-born dame should industrious be:

That which does good disgraceth no degree.

And now to Juno's temple they are come,

Where her grave priest stood in the marriage-room:

On his right arm did hang a scarlet veil,

And from his shoulders to the ground did trail,350

On either side, ribands of white and blue:

With the red veil he hid the bashful hue

Of the chaste bride, to show the modest shame,

In coupling with a man, should grace a dame.

Then took he the disparent silks, and tied

The lovers by the waists, and side to side,

In token that thereafter they must bind

In one self-sacred knot each other's mind.

Before them on an altar he presented

Both fire and water, which was first invented,360

Since to ingenerate every human creature

And every other birth produc'd by Nature,

Moisture and heat must mix; so man and wife

For human race must join in nuptial life.

Then one of Juno's birds, the painted jay,

He sacrific'd and took the gall away;

All which he did behind the altar throw,

In sign no bitterness of hate should grow,

'Twixt married loves, nor any least disdain.

Nothing they spake, for 'twas esteem'd too plain370

For the most silken mildness of a maid,

To let a public audience hear it said,

She boldly took the man; and so respected

Was bashfulness in Athens, it erected

To chaste Agneia,[103]which is Shamefacedness,

A sacred temple, holding her a goddess.

And now to feasts, masks, and triumphant shows,

The shining troops returned, even till earth-throes

Brought forth with joy the thickest part of night,

When the sweet nuptial song, that used to cite380

All to their rest, was by Phemonöe[104]sung,

First Delphian prophetess, whose graces sprung

Out of the Muses' well: she sung before

The bride into her chamber; at which door

A matron and a torch-bearer did stand:

A painted box of confits[105]in her hand

The matron held, and so did other some[106]

That compassed round the honour'd nuptial room.

The custom was, that every maid did wear,

During her maidenhead, a silken sphere390

About her waist, above her inmost weed,

Knit with Minerva's knot, and that was freed

By the fair bridegroom on the marriage-night,

With many ceremonies of delight:

And yet eternized Hymen's tender bride,

To suffer it dissolved so, sweetly cried.

The maids that heard, so loved and did adore her,

They wished with all their hearts to suffer for her.

So had the matrons, that with confits stood

About the chamber, such affectionate blood,400

And so true feeling of her harmless pains,

That every one a shower of confits rains;

For which the bride-youths scrambling on the ground,

In noise of that sweet hail her[107]cries were drown'd.

And thus blest Hymen joyed his gracious bride,

And for his joy was after deified.

The saffron mirror by which Phœbus' love,

Green Tellus, decks her, now he held above

The cloudy mountains: and the noble maid,

Sharp-visaged Adolesche, that was stray'd410

Out of her way, in hasting with her news,

Not till this[108]hour th' Athenian turrets views;

And now brought home by guides, she heard by all,

That her long kept occurrents would be stale,

And how fair Hymen's honours did excel

For those rare news which she came short to tell.

To hear her dear tongue robbed of such a joy,

Made the well-spoken nymph take such a toy,[109]

That down she sunk: when lightning from above

Shrunk her lean body, and, for mere free love,420

Turn'd her into the pied-plum'd Psittacus,

That now the Parrot is surnam'd by us,

Who still with counterfeit confusion prates

Naught but news common to the common'st mates.—

This told, strange Teras touch'd her lute, and sung

This ditty, that the torchy evening sprung.

Epithalamion Teratos.

Come, come, dear Night! Love's mart of kisses,Sweet close to his ambitious line,The fruitful summer of his blisses!Love's glory doth in darkness shine.430O come, soft rest of cares! come, Night!Come, naked Virtue's only tire,The reapèd harvest of the light,Bound up in sheaves of sacred fire!Love calls to war;Sighs his alarms,Lips his swords are,The field his arms.Come, Night, and lay thy velvet handOn glorious Day's outfacing face;440And all thy crownèd flames command,For torches to our nuptial grace!Love calls to war;Sighs his alarms,Lips his swords are,The field his arms.No need have we of factious Day,To cast, in envy of thy peace,Her balls of discord in thy way:Here Beauty's day doth never cease;450Day is abstracted here,And varied in a triple sphere.Hero, Alcmane, Mya, so outshine thee,Ere thou come here, let Thetis thrice refine thee.Love calls to war;Sighs his alarms,Lips his swords are,The field his arms.The evening star I see:Rise, youths! the evening star460Helps Love to summon war;Both now embracing be.Rise, youths! Love's rite claims more than banquets; rise!Now the bright marigolds, that deck the skies,Phœbus' celestial flowers, that, contraryTo his flowers here, ope when he shuts his eye,And shuts when he doth open, crown your sports:Now Love in Night, and Night in Love exhortsCourtship and dances: all your parts employ,And suit Night's rich expansure with your joy.470Love paints his longings in sweet virgins' eyes:Rise, youths! Love's rite claims more than banquets; rise!Rise, virgins! let fair nuptial loves enfoldYour fruitless breasts: the maidenheads[110]ye holdAre not your own alone, but parted are;Part in disposing them your parents share,And that a third part is; so must ye saveYour loves a third, and you your thirds must have.Love paints his longings in sweet virgins' eyes:Rise, youths! Love's rite claims more than banquets; rise!480Herewith the amorous spirit, that was so kindTo Teras' hair, and comb'd it down with wind,Still as it, comet-like, brake from her brain,Would needs have Teras gone, and did refrainTo blow it down: which, staring[111]up, dismay'dThe timorous feast; and she no longer stay'd;But, bowing to the bridegroom and the bride,Did, like a shooting exhalation, glideOut of their sights: the turning of her backMade them all shriek, it look'd so ghastly black.490O hapless Hero! that most hapless cloudThy soon-succeeding tragedy foreshow'd.Thus all the nuptial crew to joys depart;But much-wronged[112]Hero stood Hell's blackest dart:Whose wound because I grieve so to display,I use digressions thus t' increase the day.

Come, come, dear Night! Love's mart of kisses,

Sweet close to his ambitious line,

The fruitful summer of his blisses!

Love's glory doth in darkness shine.430

O come, soft rest of cares! come, Night!

Come, naked Virtue's only tire,

The reapèd harvest of the light,

Bound up in sheaves of sacred fire!

Love calls to war;

Sighs his alarms,

Lips his swords are,

The field his arms.

Come, Night, and lay thy velvet handOn glorious Day's outfacing face;440And all thy crownèd flames command,For torches to our nuptial grace!Love calls to war;Sighs his alarms,Lips his swords are,The field his arms.

Come, Night, and lay thy velvet hand

On glorious Day's outfacing face;440

And all thy crownèd flames command,

For torches to our nuptial grace!

Love calls to war;

Sighs his alarms,

Lips his swords are,

The field his arms.

No need have we of factious Day,To cast, in envy of thy peace,Her balls of discord in thy way:Here Beauty's day doth never cease;450Day is abstracted here,And varied in a triple sphere.Hero, Alcmane, Mya, so outshine thee,Ere thou come here, let Thetis thrice refine thee.Love calls to war;Sighs his alarms,Lips his swords are,The field his arms.

No need have we of factious Day,

To cast, in envy of thy peace,

Her balls of discord in thy way:

Here Beauty's day doth never cease;450

Day is abstracted here,

And varied in a triple sphere.

Hero, Alcmane, Mya, so outshine thee,

Ere thou come here, let Thetis thrice refine thee.

Love calls to war;

Sighs his alarms,

Lips his swords are,

The field his arms.

The evening star I see:Rise, youths! the evening star460Helps Love to summon war;Both now embracing be.Rise, youths! Love's rite claims more than banquets; rise!Now the bright marigolds, that deck the skies,Phœbus' celestial flowers, that, contraryTo his flowers here, ope when he shuts his eye,And shuts when he doth open, crown your sports:Now Love in Night, and Night in Love exhortsCourtship and dances: all your parts employ,And suit Night's rich expansure with your joy.470Love paints his longings in sweet virgins' eyes:Rise, youths! Love's rite claims more than banquets; rise!

The evening star I see:

Rise, youths! the evening star460

Helps Love to summon war;

Both now embracing be.

Rise, youths! Love's rite claims more than banquets; rise!

Now the bright marigolds, that deck the skies,

Phœbus' celestial flowers, that, contrary

To his flowers here, ope when he shuts his eye,

And shuts when he doth open, crown your sports:

Now Love in Night, and Night in Love exhorts

Courtship and dances: all your parts employ,

And suit Night's rich expansure with your joy.470

Love paints his longings in sweet virgins' eyes:

Rise, youths! Love's rite claims more than banquets; rise!

Rise, virgins! let fair nuptial loves enfoldYour fruitless breasts: the maidenheads[110]ye holdAre not your own alone, but parted are;Part in disposing them your parents share,And that a third part is; so must ye saveYour loves a third, and you your thirds must have.Love paints his longings in sweet virgins' eyes:Rise, youths! Love's rite claims more than banquets; rise!480

Rise, virgins! let fair nuptial loves enfold

Your fruitless breasts: the maidenheads[110]ye hold

Are not your own alone, but parted are;

Part in disposing them your parents share,

And that a third part is; so must ye save

Your loves a third, and you your thirds must have.

Love paints his longings in sweet virgins' eyes:

Rise, youths! Love's rite claims more than banquets; rise!480

Herewith the amorous spirit, that was so kindTo Teras' hair, and comb'd it down with wind,Still as it, comet-like, brake from her brain,Would needs have Teras gone, and did refrainTo blow it down: which, staring[111]up, dismay'dThe timorous feast; and she no longer stay'd;But, bowing to the bridegroom and the bride,Did, like a shooting exhalation, glideOut of their sights: the turning of her backMade them all shriek, it look'd so ghastly black.490O hapless Hero! that most hapless cloudThy soon-succeeding tragedy foreshow'd.Thus all the nuptial crew to joys depart;But much-wronged[112]Hero stood Hell's blackest dart:Whose wound because I grieve so to display,I use digressions thus t' increase the day.

Herewith the amorous spirit, that was so kind

To Teras' hair, and comb'd it down with wind,

Still as it, comet-like, brake from her brain,

Would needs have Teras gone, and did refrain

To blow it down: which, staring[111]up, dismay'd

The timorous feast; and she no longer stay'd;

But, bowing to the bridegroom and the bride,

Did, like a shooting exhalation, glide

Out of their sights: the turning of her back

Made them all shriek, it look'd so ghastly black.490

O hapless Hero! that most hapless cloud

Thy soon-succeeding tragedy foreshow'd.

Thus all the nuptial crew to joys depart;

But much-wronged[112]Hero stood Hell's blackest dart:

Whose wound because I grieve so to display,

I use digressions thus t' increase the day.

FOOTNOTES:[92]Some modern editors read "sat."[93]Singer suggested "Alcmaeon."[94]"Chapman has a passage very similar to this in hisWidow's Tears, Act iv.:—'Wine is ordained to raise such hearts as sink:Whom woful stars distemper let him drink.'"—Broughton.[95]"Old eds. 'prayes,' 'praies,' 'preies,' and 'pryes.'"—Dyce.[96]Dyce reads "enthrill'd" (a word that I do not remember to have seen).[97]Did make to spring. Cf. Fourth Sestiad, l. 169.[98]So the Isham copy. All other editions omit the words "the blood."[99]"Valure" is frequently found as a form of "value;" but I suspect, with Dyce, that it is here put (metri causa) for "valour."[100]Plot.[101]Gr.αδολεσχης.[102]Some eds. "price."[103]Gr.ἁγνεια[104]Singer gives a reference to Pausan, x. 5.—Old eds. "Phemonor" and "Phemoner."[105]Comfits.[106]"Other some" is a not uncommon form of expression. See Halliwell'sDict. of Archaic and Provincial Words.[107]Old eds. "their."[108]Old eds. "his."[109]A sudden pettishness or freak of fancy. Cf.Two Noble Kinsmen:—"The hot horse hot as fireTook toyat this."[110]Former editors have not noticed that Chapman is here closely imitating Catullus'Carmen Nuptiale—"Virginitas non tota tua est: ex parte parentum est:Tertia pars patri data, pars data tertia matri,Tertia sola tua est: noli pugnare duobus,Qui genero sua jura simul cum dote dederunt."[111]Some eds. "starting." Cf.Julius Cæsar, iv. 3, ll. 278-9—"Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil,That makest my blood cold and my hair tostare?"[112]"Old eds. 'much-rong,' 'much rongd,' and 'much-wrong'd.'"—Dyce(who reads "much-wrung").

[92]Some modern editors read "sat."

[93]Singer suggested "Alcmaeon."

[94]"Chapman has a passage very similar to this in hisWidow's Tears, Act iv.:—'Wine is ordained to raise such hearts as sink:Whom woful stars distemper let him drink.'"—Broughton.

[94]"Chapman has a passage very similar to this in hisWidow's Tears, Act iv.:—

'Wine is ordained to raise such hearts as sink:Whom woful stars distemper let him drink.'"—Broughton.

'Wine is ordained to raise such hearts as sink:

Whom woful stars distemper let him drink.'"—Broughton.

[95]"Old eds. 'prayes,' 'praies,' 'preies,' and 'pryes.'"—Dyce.

[96]Dyce reads "enthrill'd" (a word that I do not remember to have seen).

[97]Did make to spring. Cf. Fourth Sestiad, l. 169.

[98]So the Isham copy. All other editions omit the words "the blood."

[99]"Valure" is frequently found as a form of "value;" but I suspect, with Dyce, that it is here put (metri causa) for "valour."

[100]Plot.

[101]Gr.αδολεσχης.

[102]Some eds. "price."

[103]Gr.ἁγνεια

[104]Singer gives a reference to Pausan, x. 5.—Old eds. "Phemonor" and "Phemoner."

[105]Comfits.

[106]"Other some" is a not uncommon form of expression. See Halliwell'sDict. of Archaic and Provincial Words.

[107]Old eds. "their."

[108]Old eds. "his."

[109]A sudden pettishness or freak of fancy. Cf.Two Noble Kinsmen:—"The hot horse hot as fireTook toyat this."

[109]A sudden pettishness or freak of fancy. Cf.Two Noble Kinsmen:—

"The hot horse hot as fireTook toyat this."

"The hot horse hot as fire

Took toyat this."

[110]Former editors have not noticed that Chapman is here closely imitating Catullus'Carmen Nuptiale—"Virginitas non tota tua est: ex parte parentum est:Tertia pars patri data, pars data tertia matri,Tertia sola tua est: noli pugnare duobus,Qui genero sua jura simul cum dote dederunt."

[110]Former editors have not noticed that Chapman is here closely imitating Catullus'Carmen Nuptiale—

"Virginitas non tota tua est: ex parte parentum est:Tertia pars patri data, pars data tertia matri,Tertia sola tua est: noli pugnare duobus,Qui genero sua jura simul cum dote dederunt."

"Virginitas non tota tua est: ex parte parentum est:

Tertia pars patri data, pars data tertia matri,

Tertia sola tua est: noli pugnare duobus,

Qui genero sua jura simul cum dote dederunt."

[111]Some eds. "starting." Cf.Julius Cæsar, iv. 3, ll. 278-9—"Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil,That makest my blood cold and my hair tostare?"

[111]Some eds. "starting." Cf.Julius Cæsar, iv. 3, ll. 278-9—

"Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil,That makest my blood cold and my hair tostare?"

"Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil,

That makest my blood cold and my hair tostare?"

[112]"Old eds. 'much-rong,' 'much rongd,' and 'much-wrong'd.'"—Dyce(who reads "much-wrung").

The Argument of the Sixth Sestiad.

Leucote flies to all the Winds,And from the Fates their outrage blinds,[113]That Hero and her love may meet.Leander, with Love's complete fleetManned in himself, puts forth to seas;When straight the ruthless Destinies,With, Até, stir the winds to warUpon the Hellespont: their jarDrowns poor Leander. Hero's eyes,Wet witnesses of his surprise,10Her torch blown out, grief casts her downUpon her love, and both doth drown:In whose just ruth the god of seasTransforms them to th' Acanthides.

Leucote flies to all the Winds,

And from the Fates their outrage blinds,[113]

That Hero and her love may meet.

Leander, with Love's complete fleet

Manned in himself, puts forth to seas;

When straight the ruthless Destinies,

With, Até, stir the winds to war

Upon the Hellespont: their jar

Drowns poor Leander. Hero's eyes,

Wet witnesses of his surprise,10

Her torch blown out, grief casts her down

Upon her love, and both doth drown:

In whose just ruth the god of seas

Transforms them to th' Acanthides.

No longer could the Day nor DestiniesDelay the Night, who now did frowning riseInto her throne; and at her humorous breastsVisions and Dreams lay sucking: all men's restsFell like the mists of death upon their eyes,Day's too-long darts so kill'd their faculties.The Winds yet, like the flowers, to cease began;For bright Leucote, Venus' whitest swan,That held sweet Hero dear, spread her fair wings,Like to a field of snow, and message brings10From Venus to the Fates, t'entreat them layTheir charge upon the Winds their rage to stay,That the stern battle of the seas might cease,And guard Leander to his love in peace.The Fates consent;—ay me, dissembling Fates!They showed their favours to conceal their hates,And draw Leander on, lest seas too highShould stay his too obsequious destiny:Who[114]like a fleering slavish parasite,In warping profit or a traitorous sleight,20Hoops round his rotten body with devotes,And pricks his descant face full of false notes;Praising with open throat, and oaths as foulAs his false heart, the beauty of an owl;Kissing his skipping hand with charmèd skips,That cannot leave, but leaps upon his lipsLike a cock-sparrow, or a shameless queanSharp at a red-lipp'd youth, and naught doth meanOf all his antic shows, but doth repairMore tender fawns,[115]and takes a scatter'd hair30From his tame subject's shoulder; whips and callsFor everything he lacks; creeps 'gainst the wallsWith backward humbless, to give needless way:Thus his false fate did with Leander play.First to black Eurus flies the white Leucote(Born 'mongst the negroes in the Levant sea,On whose curl'd head[s] the glowing sun doth rise),And shows the sovereign will of Destinies,To have him cease his blasts; and down he lies.Next, to the fenny Notus course she holds,40And found him leaning, with his arms in folds,Upon a rock, his white hair full of showers;And him she chargeth by the fatal powers,To hold in his wet cheeks his cloudy voice.To Zephyr then that doth in flowers rejoice:To snake-foot Boreas next she did remove,And found him tossing of his ravished love,[116]To heat his frosty bosom hid in snow;Who with Leucote's sight did cease to blow.Thus all were still to Hero's heart's desire;50Who with all speed did consecrate a fireOf flaming gums and comfortable spice,To light her torch, which in such curious priceShe held, being object to Leander's sight,That naught but fires perfumed must give it light.She loved it so, she griev'd to see it burn,Since it would waste, and soon to ashes turn:Yet, if it burned not, 'twere not worth her eyes;What made it nothing, gave it all the prize.Sweet torch, true glass of our society!60What man does good, but he consumes thereby?But thou wert loved for good, held high, given show;Poor virtue loathed for good, obscured, held low:Do good, be pined,—be deedless good, disgraced;Unless we feed on men, we let them fast.Yet Hero with these thoughts her torch did spend:When bees make wax, Nature doth not intendIt should be made a torch; but we, that knowThe proper virtue of it, make it so,And, when 'tis made, we light it: nor did Nature70Propose one life to maids; but each such creatureMakes by her soul the best of her free[117]state,Which without love is rude, disconsolate,And wants love's fire to make it mild and bright,Till when, maids are but torches wanting light.Thus 'gainst our grief, not cause of grief, we fight:The right of naught is glean'd, but the delight.Up went she: but to tell how she descended,Would God she were dead, or my verse ended!She was the rule of wishes, sum, and end,80For all the parts that did on love depend:Yet cast the torch his brightness further forth;But what shines nearest best, holds truest worth.Leander did not through such tempests swimTo kiss the torch, although it lighted him:But all his powers in her desires awakèd,Her love and virtues clothed him richly naked.Men kiss but fire that only shows pursue;Her torch and Hero, figure show and virtue.Now at opposed Abydos naught was heard90But bleating flocks, and many a bellowing herd,Slain for the nuptials; cracks of falling woods;Blows of broad axes; pourings out of floods.The guilty Hellespont was mix'd and stainedWith bloody torrents[118]that the shambles rained;Not arguments of feast, but shows that bled,Foretelling that red night that followèd.More blood was spilt, more honours were addrest,Than could have gracèd any happy feast;Rich banquets, triumphs, every pomp employs100His sumptuous hand; no miser's nuptial joys.Air felt continual thunder with the noiseMade in the general marriage-violence;And no man knew the cause of this expense,But the two hapless lords, Leander's sire,And poor Leander, poorest where the fireOf credulous love made him most rich surmis'd:As short was he of that himself[119]he prized,As is an empty gallant full of form,That thinks each look an act, each drop a storm,110That falls from his brave breathings; most brought upIn our metropolis, and hath his cupBrought after him to feasts; and much palm bearsFor his rare judgment in th' attire he wears;Hath seen the hot Low-Countries, not their heat,Observes their rampires and their buildings yet;And, for your sweet discourse with mouths, is heardGiving instructions with his very beard;Hath gone with an ambassador, and beenA great man's mate in travelling, even to Rhene;120And then puts all his worth in such a faceAs he saw brave men make, and strives for graceTo get his news forth: as when you descryA ship, with all her sail contends to flyOut of the narrow Thames with winds unapt,Now crosseth here, then there, then this way rapt,And then hath one point reach'd, then alters all,And to another crookèd reach doth fallOf half a bird-bolt's[120]shoot, keeping more coilThan if she danc'd upon the ocean's toil;130So serious is his trifling company,In all his swelling ship of vacantryAnd so short of himself in his high thoughtWas our Leander in his fortunes brought,And in his fort of love that he thought won;But otherwise he scorns comparison.O sweet Leander, thy large worth I hideIn a short grave! ill-favour'd storms must chideThy sacred favour;[121]I in floods of inkMust drown thy graces, which white papers drink,140Even as thy beauties did the foul black seas;I must describe the hell of thy decease,That heaven did merit: yet I needs must seeOur painted fools and cockhorse peasantryStill, still usurp, with long lives, loves, and lust,The seats of Virtue, cutting short as dustHer dear-bought issue: ill to worse converts,And tramples in the blood of all deserts.Night close and silent now goes fast beforeThe captains and the soldiers to the shore,150On whom attended the appointed fleetAt Sestos' bay, that should Leander meet,Who feigned he in another ship would pass:Which must not be, for no one mean there wasTo get his love home, but the course he took.Forth did his beauty for his beauty look,And saw her through her torch, as you beholdSometimes within the sun a face of gold,Formed in strong thoughts, by that tradition's forceThat says a god sits there and guides his course.160His sister was with him; to whom he show'dHis guide by sea, and said, "Oft have you view'dIn one heaven many stars, but never yetIn one star many heavens till now were met.See, lovely sister! see, now Hero shines,No heaven but her appears; each star repines,And all are clad in clouds, as if they mournedTo be by influence of earth out-burned.Yet doth she shine, and teacheth Virtue's trainStill to be constant in hell's blackest reign,170Though even the gods themselves do so entreat themAs they did hate, and earth as she would eat them."Off went his silken robe, and in he leapt,Whom the kind waves so licorously cleapt,[122]Thickening for haste, one in another, so,To kiss his skin, that he might almost goTo Hero's tower, had that kind minute lasted.But now the cruel Fates with Até hastedTo all the winds, and made them battle fightUpon the Hellespont, for either's right180Pretended to the windy monarchy;And forth they brake, the seas mixed with the sky,And tossed distressed Leander, being in hell,As high as heaven: bliss not in height doth dwell.The Destinies sate dancing on the waves,To see the glorious Winds with mutual bravesConsume each other: O, true glass, to seeHow ruinous ambitious statists beTo their own glories! Poor Leander criedFor help to sea-born Venus she denied;190To Boreas, that, for his Atthæa's[123]sakeHe would some pity on his Hero take,And for his own love's sake, on his desires;But Glory never blows cold Pity's fires.Then call'd he Neptune, who, through all the noise,Knew with affright his wreck'd Leander's voice,And up he rose; for haste his forehead hit'Gainst heaven's hard crystal; his proud waves he smitWith his forked sceptre, that could not obey;Much greater powers than Neptune's gave them sway.200They loved Leander so, in groans they brakeWhen they came near him; and such space did take'Twixt one another, loath to issue on,That in their shallow furrows earth was shown,And the poor lover took a little breath:But the curst Fates sate spinning of his deathOn every wave, and with the servile WindsTumbled them on him. And now Hero finds,By that she felt, her dear Leander's state:She wept, and prayed for him to every Fate;210And every Wind that whipped her with her hairAbout the face, she kissed and spake it fair,Kneeled to it, gave it drink out of her eyesTo quench his thirst: but still their crueltiesEven her poor torch envied, and rudely beatThe baiting[124]flame from that dear food it eat;Dear, for it nourish'd her Leander's life;Which with her robe she rescued from their strife;But silk too soft was such hard hearts to break;And she, dear soul, even as her silk, faint, weak,220Could not preserve it; out, O, out it went!Leander still call'd Neptune, that now rentHis brackish curls, and tore his wrinkled face,Where tears in billows did each other chase;And, burst with ruth, he hurl'd his marble maceAt the stern Fates: it wounded LachesisThat drew Leander's thread, and could not missThe thread itself, as it her hand did hit,But smote it full, and quite did sunder it.The more kind Neptune raged, the more he razed230His love's life's fort, and kill'd as he embraced:Anger doth still his own mishap increase;If any comfort live, it is in peace.O thievish Fates, to let blood, flesh, and sense,Build two fair temples for their excellence,To robe it with a poisoned influence!Though souls' gifts starve, the bodies are held dearIn ugliest things; sense-sport preserves a bear:But here naught serves our turns: O heaven and earth,How most-most wretched is our human birth!240And now did all the tyrannous crew depart,Knowing there was a storm in Hero's heart,Greater than they could make, and scorn'd their smart.She bow'd herself so low out of her tower,That wonder 'twas she fell not ere her hour,With searching the lamenting waves for him:Like a poor snail, her gentle supple limbHung on her turret's top, so most downright,As she would dive beneath the darkness quite,To find her jewel;—jewel!—her Leander,250A name of all earth's jewels pleas'd not herLike his dear name: "Leander, still my choice,Come naught but my Leander! O my voice,Turn to Leander! henceforth be all sounds,Accents and phrases, that show all griefs' wounds,Analyzed in Leander! O black change!Trumpets, do you, with thunder of your clange,Drive out this change's horror! My voice faints:Where all joy was, now shriek out all complaints!"Thus cried she; for her mixèd soul could tell260Her love was dead: and when the Morning fellProstrate upon the weeping earth for woe,Blushes, that bled out of her cheeks, did showLeander brought by Neptune, bruis'd and tornWith cities' ruins he to rocks had worn,To filthy usuring rocks, that would have blood,Though they could get of him no other good.She saw him, and the sight was much-much moreThan might have serv'd to kill her: should her storeOf giant sorrows speak?—Burst,—die,—bleed,270And leave poor plaints to us that shall succeed.She fell on her love's bosom, hugged it fast,And with Leander's name she breathed her last.Neptune for pity in his arms did take them,Flung them into the air, and did awake themLike two sweet birds, surnam'd th' Acanthides,Which we call Thistle-warps, that near no seasDare ever come, but still in couples fly,And feed on thistle-tops, to testifyThe hardness of their first life in their last;280The first, in thorns of love, that sorrows past:And so most beautiful their colours show,As none (so little) like them; her sad browA sable velvet feather covers quite,Even like the forehead-cloth that, in the night,Or when they sorrow, ladies use[125]to wear:Their wings, blue, red, and yellow, mixed appear:Colours that, as we construe colours, paintTheir states to life;—the yellow shows their saint,The dainty[126]Venus, left them; blue their truth;290The red and black, ensigns of death and ruth.And this true honour from their love-death sprung,—They were the first that ever poet sung.[127]

No longer could the Day nor Destinies

Delay the Night, who now did frowning rise

Into her throne; and at her humorous breasts

Visions and Dreams lay sucking: all men's rests

Fell like the mists of death upon their eyes,

Day's too-long darts so kill'd their faculties.

The Winds yet, like the flowers, to cease began;

For bright Leucote, Venus' whitest swan,

That held sweet Hero dear, spread her fair wings,

Like to a field of snow, and message brings10

From Venus to the Fates, t'entreat them lay

Their charge upon the Winds their rage to stay,

That the stern battle of the seas might cease,

And guard Leander to his love in peace.

The Fates consent;—ay me, dissembling Fates!

They showed their favours to conceal their hates,

And draw Leander on, lest seas too high

Should stay his too obsequious destiny:

Who[114]like a fleering slavish parasite,

In warping profit or a traitorous sleight,20

Hoops round his rotten body with devotes,

And pricks his descant face full of false notes;

Praising with open throat, and oaths as foul

As his false heart, the beauty of an owl;

Kissing his skipping hand with charmèd skips,

That cannot leave, but leaps upon his lips

Like a cock-sparrow, or a shameless quean

Sharp at a red-lipp'd youth, and naught doth mean

Of all his antic shows, but doth repair

More tender fawns,[115]and takes a scatter'd hair30

From his tame subject's shoulder; whips and calls

For everything he lacks; creeps 'gainst the walls

With backward humbless, to give needless way:

Thus his false fate did with Leander play.

First to black Eurus flies the white Leucote

(Born 'mongst the negroes in the Levant sea,

On whose curl'd head[s] the glowing sun doth rise),

And shows the sovereign will of Destinies,

To have him cease his blasts; and down he lies.

Next, to the fenny Notus course she holds,40

And found him leaning, with his arms in folds,

Upon a rock, his white hair full of showers;

And him she chargeth by the fatal powers,

To hold in his wet cheeks his cloudy voice.

To Zephyr then that doth in flowers rejoice:

To snake-foot Boreas next she did remove,

And found him tossing of his ravished love,[116]

To heat his frosty bosom hid in snow;

Who with Leucote's sight did cease to blow.

Thus all were still to Hero's heart's desire;50

Who with all speed did consecrate a fire

Of flaming gums and comfortable spice,

To light her torch, which in such curious price

She held, being object to Leander's sight,

That naught but fires perfumed must give it light.

She loved it so, she griev'd to see it burn,

Since it would waste, and soon to ashes turn:

Yet, if it burned not, 'twere not worth her eyes;

What made it nothing, gave it all the prize.

Sweet torch, true glass of our society!60

What man does good, but he consumes thereby?

But thou wert loved for good, held high, given show;

Poor virtue loathed for good, obscured, held low:

Do good, be pined,—be deedless good, disgraced;

Unless we feed on men, we let them fast.

Yet Hero with these thoughts her torch did spend:

When bees make wax, Nature doth not intend

It should be made a torch; but we, that know

The proper virtue of it, make it so,

And, when 'tis made, we light it: nor did Nature70

Propose one life to maids; but each such creature

Makes by her soul the best of her free[117]state,

Which without love is rude, disconsolate,

And wants love's fire to make it mild and bright,

Till when, maids are but torches wanting light.

Thus 'gainst our grief, not cause of grief, we fight:

The right of naught is glean'd, but the delight.

Up went she: but to tell how she descended,

Would God she were dead, or my verse ended!

She was the rule of wishes, sum, and end,80

For all the parts that did on love depend:

Yet cast the torch his brightness further forth;

But what shines nearest best, holds truest worth.

Leander did not through such tempests swim

To kiss the torch, although it lighted him:

But all his powers in her desires awakèd,

Her love and virtues clothed him richly naked.

Men kiss but fire that only shows pursue;

Her torch and Hero, figure show and virtue.

Now at opposed Abydos naught was heard90

But bleating flocks, and many a bellowing herd,

Slain for the nuptials; cracks of falling woods;

Blows of broad axes; pourings out of floods.

The guilty Hellespont was mix'd and stained

With bloody torrents[118]that the shambles rained;

Not arguments of feast, but shows that bled,

Foretelling that red night that followèd.

More blood was spilt, more honours were addrest,

Than could have gracèd any happy feast;

Rich banquets, triumphs, every pomp employs100

His sumptuous hand; no miser's nuptial joys.

Air felt continual thunder with the noise

Made in the general marriage-violence;

And no man knew the cause of this expense,

But the two hapless lords, Leander's sire,

And poor Leander, poorest where the fire

Of credulous love made him most rich surmis'd:

As short was he of that himself[119]he prized,

As is an empty gallant full of form,

That thinks each look an act, each drop a storm,110

That falls from his brave breathings; most brought up

In our metropolis, and hath his cup

Brought after him to feasts; and much palm bears

For his rare judgment in th' attire he wears;

Hath seen the hot Low-Countries, not their heat,

Observes their rampires and their buildings yet;

And, for your sweet discourse with mouths, is heard

Giving instructions with his very beard;

Hath gone with an ambassador, and been

A great man's mate in travelling, even to Rhene;120

And then puts all his worth in such a face

As he saw brave men make, and strives for grace

To get his news forth: as when you descry

A ship, with all her sail contends to fly

Out of the narrow Thames with winds unapt,

Now crosseth here, then there, then this way rapt,

And then hath one point reach'd, then alters all,

And to another crookèd reach doth fall

Of half a bird-bolt's[120]shoot, keeping more coil

Than if she danc'd upon the ocean's toil;130

So serious is his trifling company,

In all his swelling ship of vacantry

And so short of himself in his high thought

Was our Leander in his fortunes brought,

And in his fort of love that he thought won;

But otherwise he scorns comparison.

O sweet Leander, thy large worth I hide

In a short grave! ill-favour'd storms must chide

Thy sacred favour;[121]I in floods of ink

Must drown thy graces, which white papers drink,140

Even as thy beauties did the foul black seas;

I must describe the hell of thy decease,

That heaven did merit: yet I needs must see

Our painted fools and cockhorse peasantry

Still, still usurp, with long lives, loves, and lust,

The seats of Virtue, cutting short as dust

Her dear-bought issue: ill to worse converts,

And tramples in the blood of all deserts.

Night close and silent now goes fast before

The captains and the soldiers to the shore,150

On whom attended the appointed fleet

At Sestos' bay, that should Leander meet,

Who feigned he in another ship would pass:

Which must not be, for no one mean there was

To get his love home, but the course he took.

Forth did his beauty for his beauty look,

And saw her through her torch, as you behold

Sometimes within the sun a face of gold,

Formed in strong thoughts, by that tradition's force

That says a god sits there and guides his course.160

His sister was with him; to whom he show'd

His guide by sea, and said, "Oft have you view'd

In one heaven many stars, but never yet

In one star many heavens till now were met.

See, lovely sister! see, now Hero shines,

No heaven but her appears; each star repines,

And all are clad in clouds, as if they mourned

To be by influence of earth out-burned.

Yet doth she shine, and teacheth Virtue's train

Still to be constant in hell's blackest reign,170

Though even the gods themselves do so entreat them

As they did hate, and earth as she would eat them."

Off went his silken robe, and in he leapt,

Whom the kind waves so licorously cleapt,[122]

Thickening for haste, one in another, so,

To kiss his skin, that he might almost go

To Hero's tower, had that kind minute lasted.

But now the cruel Fates with Até hasted

To all the winds, and made them battle fight

Upon the Hellespont, for either's right180

Pretended to the windy monarchy;

And forth they brake, the seas mixed with the sky,

And tossed distressed Leander, being in hell,

As high as heaven: bliss not in height doth dwell.

The Destinies sate dancing on the waves,

To see the glorious Winds with mutual braves

Consume each other: O, true glass, to see

How ruinous ambitious statists be

To their own glories! Poor Leander cried

For help to sea-born Venus she denied;190

To Boreas, that, for his Atthæa's[123]sake

He would some pity on his Hero take,

And for his own love's sake, on his desires;

But Glory never blows cold Pity's fires.

Then call'd he Neptune, who, through all the noise,

Knew with affright his wreck'd Leander's voice,

And up he rose; for haste his forehead hit

'Gainst heaven's hard crystal; his proud waves he smit

With his forked sceptre, that could not obey;

Much greater powers than Neptune's gave them sway.200

They loved Leander so, in groans they brake

When they came near him; and such space did take

'Twixt one another, loath to issue on,

That in their shallow furrows earth was shown,

And the poor lover took a little breath:

But the curst Fates sate spinning of his death

On every wave, and with the servile Winds

Tumbled them on him. And now Hero finds,

By that she felt, her dear Leander's state:

She wept, and prayed for him to every Fate;210

And every Wind that whipped her with her hair

About the face, she kissed and spake it fair,

Kneeled to it, gave it drink out of her eyes

To quench his thirst: but still their cruelties

Even her poor torch envied, and rudely beat

The baiting[124]flame from that dear food it eat;

Dear, for it nourish'd her Leander's life;

Which with her robe she rescued from their strife;

But silk too soft was such hard hearts to break;

And she, dear soul, even as her silk, faint, weak,220

Could not preserve it; out, O, out it went!

Leander still call'd Neptune, that now rent

His brackish curls, and tore his wrinkled face,

Where tears in billows did each other chase;

And, burst with ruth, he hurl'd his marble mace

At the stern Fates: it wounded Lachesis

That drew Leander's thread, and could not miss

The thread itself, as it her hand did hit,

But smote it full, and quite did sunder it.

The more kind Neptune raged, the more he razed230

His love's life's fort, and kill'd as he embraced:

Anger doth still his own mishap increase;

If any comfort live, it is in peace.

O thievish Fates, to let blood, flesh, and sense,

Build two fair temples for their excellence,

To robe it with a poisoned influence!

Though souls' gifts starve, the bodies are held dear

In ugliest things; sense-sport preserves a bear:

But here naught serves our turns: O heaven and earth,

How most-most wretched is our human birth!240

And now did all the tyrannous crew depart,

Knowing there was a storm in Hero's heart,

Greater than they could make, and scorn'd their smart.

She bow'd herself so low out of her tower,

That wonder 'twas she fell not ere her hour,

With searching the lamenting waves for him:

Like a poor snail, her gentle supple limb

Hung on her turret's top, so most downright,

As she would dive beneath the darkness quite,

To find her jewel;—jewel!—her Leander,250

A name of all earth's jewels pleas'd not her

Like his dear name: "Leander, still my choice,

Come naught but my Leander! O my voice,

Turn to Leander! henceforth be all sounds,

Accents and phrases, that show all griefs' wounds,

Analyzed in Leander! O black change!

Trumpets, do you, with thunder of your clange,

Drive out this change's horror! My voice faints:

Where all joy was, now shriek out all complaints!"

Thus cried she; for her mixèd soul could tell260

Her love was dead: and when the Morning fell

Prostrate upon the weeping earth for woe,

Blushes, that bled out of her cheeks, did show

Leander brought by Neptune, bruis'd and torn

With cities' ruins he to rocks had worn,

To filthy usuring rocks, that would have blood,

Though they could get of him no other good.

She saw him, and the sight was much-much more

Than might have serv'd to kill her: should her store

Of giant sorrows speak?—Burst,—die,—bleed,270

And leave poor plaints to us that shall succeed.

She fell on her love's bosom, hugged it fast,

And with Leander's name she breathed her last.

Neptune for pity in his arms did take them,

Flung them into the air, and did awake them

Like two sweet birds, surnam'd th' Acanthides,

Which we call Thistle-warps, that near no seas

Dare ever come, but still in couples fly,

And feed on thistle-tops, to testify

The hardness of their first life in their last;280

The first, in thorns of love, that sorrows past:

And so most beautiful their colours show,

As none (so little) like them; her sad brow

A sable velvet feather covers quite,

Even like the forehead-cloth that, in the night,

Or when they sorrow, ladies use[125]to wear:

Their wings, blue, red, and yellow, mixed appear:

Colours that, as we construe colours, paint

Their states to life;—the yellow shows their saint,

The dainty[126]Venus, left them; blue their truth;290

The red and black, ensigns of death and ruth.

And this true honour from their love-death sprung,—

They were the first that ever poet sung.[127]

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